True Love is When You Wipeout Together
by passequine
Summary: "Willkommen, ladies and gents, to the Hetalia WipeOut, Couples Edition! We've got quite the obstacle course today for these unlucky folks, isn't that right, Antonio?" Gilbert grins. Matthew grins mischievously. "Hey, Al. Pass me some of that popcorn."
1. Chapter 1

"Alfred. Why did you drag me here."

Matthew is beyond exasperated with his brother's antics, and waiting in these bleachers among almost every nation with an ominous looking obstacle course facing them, he does not feel this – whatever _this_ was – is going to end well. Alfred had better have a good explanation for making him miss the hockey match at home.

"Don't worry, bro, you're not participating. I just thought you'd appreciate being front row for what's about to happen," Alfred replies with mischief. "You're gonna love it. Hey, it's Gilbert and Antonio! Get ready for an ab workout, Mat, 'cause this is gonna be hilarious."

Alfred promptly starts stuffing himself with popcorn while Matthew gives a curious glance towards the two newcomers, both holding a mic and dressed in, of all things, suits. In this weather. What the hell is going on?

"_Willkommen_, ladies and gents, to the Hetalia WipeOut, Couples Edition! We've got quite the obstacle course today for these unlucky folks, isn't that right Antonio?" Gilbert grins.

"_Si, mi amigo_! Today, one brave couple will have to endure incredible spills and catastrophic falls through numerous obstacles, only to move on and complete the ultimate obstacle course ever, the WipeOut Zone, the final step on the journey to the Grand Prize!" Antonio beams and turns around, speaking towards the building next to the obstacle course. "The epic competition begins now! Elizabeta, let's introduce the happy couple to our audience!"

Alfred cheers along with the other nations sitting around while Matthew racks his brain trying to figure out who the two unlucky participants were. It could be Germany and Italy, but Italy was sitting two bleachers behind him with his brother. That also eliminated Antonio and Lovino, but Antonio was apparently cohosting this event either way. What about Greece and Japan? No, Greece would fall over sleeping trying to complete the course and Japan wasn't one for these kinds of things... unless it involved getting some shady manga in return. Liechtenstein and Iceland? Gilbert and Antonio would sooner be riddled with bullets by Switzerland than that ever happening. So… who could it be?

Two sets of outraged screams rise from within the building as Elizabeta opens the door and stands in front of the course, with a mic in her hand and dressed similarly to Gilbert and Antonio. Matthew cranes his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the participants.

Oh. _Oh_.

Matthew grins mischievously. Alfred was right. This would be better than good. This was going to be _excellent_.

"Hey, Al. Pass me some of that popcorn."


	2. Chapter 2

"So," Elizabeta asked sweetly, and with no small amount of glee. "How long have you two been together?"

"WE'RE NOT A FUCKING COUPLE."

"Mmhm." Elizabeta falsely acknowledged. "Okay. So, I'd say, about a couple hundred years? Half a millennium, maybe? Of course, you guys _have_ had your eyes on each other for longer than that, am I right?" she asks the rest of the nations.

A murmur of assent rises from the audience. Arthur slaps his hands on his face, moaning in frustration. "And pray tell, _why _are we doing this again?"

"Because this is what you agreed to do if you lost the drinking game to Denmark and me last night, man. Which you did. Obviously, and spectacularly," replies Gilbert as Mathias jumps up and waves excitedly in the audience. Norway punches him back to his seat.

"Why did you have to rope _me_ into this as well?!" chimes in Francis indignantly. "I had _no_ part at all in your drinking games, and have no interest in running around making an unfashionable fool of myself."

Gilbert shrugs unapologetically. "Sorry, Francis. A deal's a deal. You can punch Arthur or whatever it is you two do when you fight after this is over." Grinning, he continues for the audience.

"For the first round, our _dear_ Arthur and Francis will have to brave the diving board trapeze, followed by the beloved big balls, and finishing with the fender-bender! Of course, they'll have to do so within fifteen minutes and _together_," Gilbert adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Let's see if they can successfully complete it without a hitch, or if they will… wipeout!" Antonio finishes with a flourish of his hand. The crowd cheers.

Arthur spots Alfred and Marty happily munching on popcorn on the front row and rounds in on them, fuming.

"Alfred! Why the _fuck_ weren't you there last night! I asked you to chaperone me while I went out drinking; I was supposed to have a meeting with my boss this morning and because of you I was too hungover to go!"

"Sorry, dude. I noped the fuck outta there as soon as you went all mopey and _oh my dear lad why did you have to grow up boo-hoo life is sad Francis doesn't love me and won't have sex with me_. So. Also once I heard about this bet did you think I would let you _not_ drink?! This is gonna be _Oscar_ worthy, man!"

"I SAID NO SUCH THING, YOU FUCKING TWAT!" Arthur screams. An infuriatingly nasal voice starts laughing next to him.

"SHUT IT, FROG." Arthur promptly hits him in the gut, with a satisfying _oof_ from Francis. He once again faces the brothers.

"Marvin, why are you agreeing to this!?"

"The name's Matthew, asshole!" said man replies as he flips Arthur the bird and grabs a handful of popcorn from Alfred's bag. "And I only found out about this two minutes ago; guess you'll have to suck it up and go with it. It's only a small obstacle course, you've been through worse."

Gilbert grins towards Arthur and Francis and rubs his hands together gleefully as they both pale.

"So, are you guys gonna continue to bicker like an old married couple or are we gonna get this show on the road?"

"MOTHERFUCKER."


	3. Chapter 3

"Aaaaaalright, boys and girls! The moment you've all been waiting for has finally come!"

Gilbert, Antonio and Elizabeta are setting up the final equipment while the crowd buzzes in excitement. Arthur and Francis are standing on the starting platform of the obstacle course, silently fuming.

"Liz, on the count of three, start the timer!" Gilbert turns to the two unlucky participants. "You guys! Once you hear Gilbird give the signal, you better start running! You don't want to disappoint the audience, do you?" he shouts into his microphone. The crowd of nations answers in whoops and cheers of assent.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PASTY ASSHAT."

"Gilbert, Antonio, _mes amis! _I still cannot believe you would betray me in such a way! You wound my poor heart!" Francis clutches at his chest as he sobs desperately.

Antonio only smiles sheepishly at him, scratching the back of his head. "_Lo siento_, Francis, but you only have Arthur to blame for getting into this situation. Like Gilbert said, he's the one who agreed to this as a bet last night."

He turns back towards Gilbert and Elizabeta towards the final setup. From atop the platform, Francis gives one last imploring look to Matthew and Alfred, both still happily scarfing down popcorn.

"_Matthieu!_ After this is all over, go to my house; under my bed there is a box with a key. That key opens the top drawer to my desk in my study, where you will find my will, in case any sordid matter was to befall me."

Matthew rolls his eyes in exasperation and Alfred guffaws, spraying bits of popcorn everywhere while Francis continues, giving one shuddering breath. "I have left you some of my belongings in that will. I entrust you to follow through with it." With one wave and a kiss, he finishes, "_Adieu, mon garcon! Papa t'aime de tout coe-_"

There is a yelp followed by a pained groan as Arthur delivers a swift punch to Francis's skull.

"Shut up, you arse. And stop being so melodramatic! You won't die from this. Honestly…"

"I have no need to listen to you, _rosbif_. You're the one who has got me into this mess." Francis winces, clutching his head. "And you have ruined my hair! How could you?! My only wish is to die fashionably, and you have ruined that as well!"

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperation and crosses his arms gruffly. "You've been through worse."

They both look forward at the impending doom that faces them. There is an audible gulp from both men.

Arthur attempts to reassures himself. "After all, just think of it like this; it's like going into battle… Just… just face toward the enemy, charge and soon enough it'll be over, yeah?"

Francis gives him a look of horror and incredulity. "Except we have never had to face _giant balls _in _war._"

There is another whoop from the crowd and both men turn abruptly, an apprehensive look crossing their faces when they see the utter glee on their "hosts'" faces. Gilbert grins lecherously and Antonio gives them a thumbs up as Elizabeta discretely arranges her camera.

"Okay! Everything is ready for this incredible event! Ladies and gentlemen, one last round of applause for this lucky couple!" Gilbert mock applauses. The crowd is deafening.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WE ARE NO-"

"_Aaaaaand_…" Antonio continues, "Here we go! Ready, gentlemen? Don't forget, this is Wipeout, couples edition! To get the grand prize, you need to go through these obstacle courses _together_. Elizabeta!" The woman is poised, hand on the timer. Gilbird is next to his owner, patiently awaiting his instructions.

"Everyone with me!" exclaims the Hungarian.

"_Three!"_

Francis is even paler than before; Arthur breaks into a cold sweat.

"_Two!"_

"Arthur… if we don't make it… know that… I've always-"

"Fuck off, frog."

_"One!"_

Arthur's gaze suddenly hardens in determination, and he positions himself in a running stance. Francis takes one look at him, then at the course. With one last gulp, he hastily pulls his hair into a ponytail and assumes the same posture.

"Gilbird!"

"_CHEEEEEEEEEEP."_

_"_Ladies and gentlemen, the clock has started! Let the race… BEGIN!"


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he hears Gilbird's call, Arthur starts barreling down from the starting platform onto the blue and grey slope which leads to the first obstacle, his face a mask of equal parts fierce resolve and irritation. Francis trails behind, slightly more cautious. And with good reason.

"Fuck fuck fuckfucfuck_fuckfuck—fucking shIT_"

Arthur begins to slip, his feet continuously sliding beneath the floor slick with water and his arms flapping and waving about in attempt to regain his balance in a comical fashion. As he tries to regain his balance to no avail and continues to fly down at an alarming speed, Arthur tries to call out to Francis:

"Watch oout for t-the—_bloody hell—_the fucking wa—_oh fUCK_—water on the slo-o-oope!"

A desperate "_Trop tââaaaaAARD_" is the last thing Arthur hears before he yelps when a heavy weight collides with him from behind, pushing him and the weight into the bank of water next to the slope with a loud splash.

"And that's what I'd call a great start to this wonderful event, don't you think, Antonio?" Gilbert comments cheekily, Gilbird flapping around him leisurely. Antonio is laughing too hard to reply. "Elizabeta! How long has it been since you started the timer?"

"Seventeen seconds point six; I'm impressed! And did you see that fall – the way Francis held on to Arthur so he wouldn't hurt himself? How thoughtful and romantic of him." She and a few other female nations sigh dreamily, ignoring the splutters coming from the blushing duo sitting helplessly in the water. "And for those of you who missed that fantastic fall," Elizabeta turns to the crowd of nations, "this whole thing is being recorded! Shout out to Kiku!"

A small hand with a camera strap around its wrist pokes out from the horde of nations up in the bleachers, giving a small thumbs up.

"Now come on! Up, up, back on the course! You both aren't done till you cross the finish line!" Elizabeta eyes the still indignant men standing in the bank of water. "And for every fall, we add two minutes to the timer!"

Arthur glares at her as he reluctantly trudges to the base of the slope, looking like a disgruntled puppy in his wet clothes and his soaked hair. Francis thinks it's a bit adorable. A bit.

"This prize better be worth all the fucking trouble I'm being put through here."

"_If_ there is even a prize, _mon cher_," the Frenchman says, wringing out the water from his hair as he follows Arthur. "Maybe they are just saying that to give us an incentive to follow through with this nightmare. Which is still _your_ fault, _merci beaucoup_." He adds, snappy.

Arthur gives him one of his scathing looks that he is so familiar with. "Well aren't you just a bloody fucking ray of sunshine."

"Like you?" Francis quips back automatically, removing his shoes to get rid of the water in them. "_Mon dieu_," he whimpers, "all these good clothes… ruined forever!" Arthur simply looks away and crosses his arms, ignoring Francis's crocodile tears once again with a sigh.

"Man, these two are hopeless," Mathias remarks from the audience of nations laughing at the duo's antics. In the lower bleachers, Matthew is trying to pacify an eerily smiling Ivan from beating up Alfred for accidentally spraying bits of popcorn in his hair when he was laughing. "I bet I could finish this whole thing in two minutes tops!"

"You gonna prove that?" a somber voice retorts behind him. Mathias turns around, swinging his arm around Berwald in answer, his grin never wavering when that arm is promptly shoved off by the stoic man.

"Well… this _is_ couple's edition Wipeout. If you're so eager to see me in action and PROVE YOU WRONG," he emphasizes, "I'd have to get myself a partner for that." Mathias leers invitingly.

"Take Nikolas with you." Berwald replies. "I'm already taken. By Tino." He adds, spurring said man to choke on the coffee he was drinking.

"We are _not_ doing what Arthur and Francis are doing! And for the last time, we are not together!"

"I beg to differ," Nikolas says indifferently next to him, only fueling Tino's blush. "No," he adds when he spots Mathias's leer is now aimed at him.

Antonio clears his throat loudly, his microphone in front of him. "Okay, _amigos_! Let's get back on track with Wipeout! Arthur, Francis! Whenever you're both ready!"

"That's just it, you see," Arthur calls out sweetly, "…we'll NEVER BE READY FOR THIS, YOU SHIT," he ends, fuming.

"Better get it over with quickly, then! Like a band-aid," Antonio smiles brightly, impervious to the stream of curses thrown his way.

Francis simply sighs and rolls his shoulders, pushing stray hairs away from his face and tucking them behind his ear. "Antonio's right, _rosbif_. We need to work together if we do not want this to last long."

"I don't," bites back Arthur.

"Then listen to me: the more we work as a team, the less humiliating it is for us, the less bruises we will get, and the sooner I can get back to watching _Les Misérables_." Arthur snorts in derision. "So stop grumbling, you are wasting time."

"Fine, you arse." Arthur huffs, but then smirks. "I can't promise I won't stop grumbling _while_ we go through this, however." Francis simply laughs before shaking his head in mock exasperation.

"_Bien sûr que non_. I don't know why I even bothered asking that from you."

When Elizabeta shouts out to them that the timer will restart in ten seconds, they both steel their eyes in determination, at the ready once again, the atmosphere tense with sudden concentration.

Which is swiftly broken by a joyous "_Allons-y!_" from Alfred at the front of the bleachers, just as Gilbird gives the start signal.

"DON'T FUCKING MOCK MY SHOWS, YOU YANK!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Aaaand, they're at it again, folks! Let's see how long it takes them to wipeout this time," Gilbert begins mockingly, grinning at Antonio.

"Twenty dollars on Arthur fucking up first," Alfred garbles through his mouthful of popcorn. Matthew smirks, high-fiving the outstretched palm towards him.

"You're on."

On the obstacle course, Arthur and Francis have started running once again on the slippery path, albeit in a slightly more cautious manner in the hopes they'll get to the finish line without a hitch. Muttering all the way, Arthur, who's closely following Francis, doesn't look up and bumps into Francis' back when the man stops. Rubbing his head, he bites out, "What the fuck are you stopping for, you arse?!"

Francis only gulps in response.

"What do we have here? _Claro_, ladies and gentlemen," Antonio shouts happily, "Francis and Arthur have just come across their first hurdle! They will have to face the diving board trapeze, where they must jump from the diving board, grab the trapeze and swing across the mud in order to land on the platform. Let's see how well they will fare through their first real obstacle!"

"How about you give it a go first, mate," Arthur whispers to Francis, facing the trapeze with a wary eye.

"You're too kind, _mon cher_," Francis replies drily. Arthur only nudges him forward in response, looking at him pointedly. "Oh, fine, I will go first. But if I fall you will have to pay to replace my clothes."

Arthur rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

With one deep breath, Francis shakes his nerves off before running to the diving board, leaping for the trapeze and…

Grabs it for a millisecond, only for his hands to slip and him to slam against the edge of the platform, falling backwards into the mud with a gigantic _SPLASH_.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you DON'T attempt to use a trapeze!" Gilbert manages to say in between guffaws, barely heard over the crowd's own laughter.

Francis sits in the pool of mud, slicking his now dirty hair out of his face. He glares up at Arthur, who's bent over in uproarious laughter.

"This is not funny! My clothes are forever ruined," Francis bemoans, not bothering to get back up just yet. "I am over _2000 years old_, I am too old for this!" he yells in his two mischievous friends, lifting his hands in the air for emphasis. Gilbert and Antonio simply give him thumbs up in answer.

"Well, I think it's hilarious," Arthur says in between chuckles, wiping tears from his face.

"Ah, but now it's your turn, _mon chou._" Francis says, a smirk slowly on his face. "I can't wait for you to join me." Arthur scowls back, mirth slipping from his face at the teasing.

"Don't bet on it, you twat." His face, a mask of false bravado, falls slightly when he looks back at the trapeze.

"Get on with it!" someone yells from the crowd. Arthur has a sneaking suspicion it's Mathias, and makes a mental note to himself to kick his arse when all this is over.

He backs up a bit to gain momentum, eyes trained on the still swinging trapeze, and starts running, gaining speed the closer he gets to the diving board, and with one powerful leap…

He jumps straight into the pool of mud, falling right on his stomach next to a now laughing Francis.

"Oh man," Alfred gasps out from the crowd, holding his stomach as he roars in laughter, "the old man wasn't even _close_ to grabbing the trapeze! This is _gold_." Next to him, Matthew has a hand in front of his mouth, trying and failing to contain his own laughter.

Eliza jumps in next to Gilbert and Antonio, who are on the ground and banging their fists on the grass, down for the count when it comes to commentating.

"Looks like our poor Englishman had even less luck trying to overcome this obstacle! And this is only the first of many more! Kiku, I hope you got good shots of these priceless stunts," she says with glee into her microphone. Up in the bleachers, Im Yong Soo answers for his brother.

"You betcha, Eliza! He's got great ones, and they're not even blurry!" he yells, hands cupped around his mouth to be heard among the chattering and laughing crowd of nations around him. Beside him, Kiku is trying to fend off his family, who are jumping around and crowding him, trying to get a glimpse of his photography.

Back in the obstacle course, Francis is leering at Arthur, who is spitting out a stream of murky water, harshly wiping his mouth and cursing up a storm next to him.

"_Bonjour_."

"Fuck you."

Antonio is back up, frame still shaking with barely contained giggles. Gilbert still lies on the ground, regaining his breath with heaving gulps.

"A-alright, _amigos_! Up, up! The clock is still ticking, and some of us have bets placed on how long you will last. I'm not wrong, _no_?" he asks, turning towards the audience with a wink, and is met with a chorus of cheers and assents. Further up the bleachers, Sadiq is catcalling and whistling at the two miserable looking countries still sitting in the mud.

"Let's go, lovebirds! I've got 200 dollars against Heracles on you guys finishing before the end of today and I refuse to lose!" Arthur's faint protest of _for the last time, we're not together!_ is ignored by everyone, including Francis, who is too busy wringing the mud out of his soaked shirt.

"You're going to lose," Heracles drowsily replies, sleepy smirk plastered on his face as he leans sideways, dozing off.

"Say that to my face, you feta-eating freak!" Sadiq yells back, turning around with fists at the ready. His nemesis only lets out a snore in response to his antics.

Eliza turns to Francis and Arthur, and tells them to get back on the platform for the next obstacle, and they oblige, grumbling and sighing in suffering, much to her amusement.

"You guys should know by now that you're in for the long haul. So get over it, and _cooperate_," she says, looking up at them from her standpoint.

She giggles at the two equally fierce glares she's met with.

* * *

Translations:

claro - of course/certainly

mon cher/mon chou - my dear

bonjour - hello

amigos - friends


	6. Chapter 6

As a reference, Irina is Ukraine, Im Yong is South Korea and Lin Yi is Taiwan in this fic.

* * *

"_Allez, allez_! We do not have all day, _rosbif_," Francis calls out from the platform leading to the second obstacle. A few feet away, Arthur is trudging in the murky water to him, clothes soaked brown with the dirt.

"We _do_, actually," he huffs as he clasps his friend's proffered hand once he reaches him, being hefted up on the platform with a grunt. "If they plan on staying true to the actual show, then we won't be finished until night hits."

"That may be so, but in the real show, there are a multitude of couples competing against each other. We are only two individuals, so it should end a lot quicker," Francis retorts, flicking back a strand of mud-soaked hair. "I plan on taking a shower as soon as possible," he adds haughtily.

"Of course you do," Arthur mutters with a roll of his eyes.

Beneath them, further up front and facing the crowd, Elizabeta, Gilbert and Antonio are grinning, commentating on the next obstacles.

"Now, what we have next, _Leute_, are the three last hurdles this unlucky couple-" Gilbert says, ignoring the sharp glare sent his way from a certain Englishman, "will have to face. We present to you the infamous big balls, followed by the log roll and finishing with the fender bender!"

"Good luck, boys!" Elizabeta yells, waving happily towards Arthur and Francis. Arthur flips her off in return.

"_Alors_… ladies first?" Francis grins cheekily towards the Englishman, who simply gives him the most deadpan look ever in answer, crossing his arms.

"I suggest you get moving before I kick you into the water myself, frog," and Francis gives a nervous laughter, turns around and sighs in resignation before running towards the first ball, leaping.

He successfully lands on it, face lightening up in surprised glee, until he bounces right back up towards the second ball, unprepared. He flails his arms as he soars, landing successfully on the second ball but bouncing back up with less force, causing him to fall in between the balls and hit the side of the third ball face-first with an audible 'ouMPH', then bumping his back into the previous ball and finally into the water.

"Oooh," Gilbert says into the mic with a mocking wince and a grin, "that must have hurt, don't you think, Antonio?"

His friend nods beside him, laughing all the while. "Yes, I think so, _mi amigo_. Now let's see how our English friend here will fare! First he must wait for Francis to get to the next platform before trying to brave the big balls himself."

Said man is mockingly tapping his foot as he waits while Francis waddles in the water towards his destination.

"Who's the slow one now, frog?!" he yells down, grinning. "I thought we didn't have all day, as I recall you saying not two minutes ago!"

"I did not know you were so eager to get squished between big balls, _mon cher_," Francis shoots back as he reaches the ladder towards the stand. "In any case, I look forward to seeing it happen," he teases, flashing a wink. Arthur fumes, reddening.

"GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GODDAMNED GUTTER."

Back on the bleachers, Alfred's left to grab some more popcorn while Matthew chats amiably with Irina, Ivan keeping a watchful eye on them and letting a few ominous giggles slip out once in a while, much to Matthew's concern and wariness.

When Alfred comes back, with four extra-large tubs of popcorn, Irina eyes him in disbelief.

"Really?!" she asks, as Alfred dutifully slaps a mouthful of the stuff in his face.

"What?!" he replies mid-chew, careful not to spray any popcorn bits in Ivan's way this time. "Don't think I can eat all of this?"

"Well…"

"I've done this plenty of times, bro," he says, oblivious to the angry twitch Ivan gives when he hears the American refer to his sister as 'bro.' "After all, the all-great U.S. of A. never fails to finish what he starts!"

"Actually, I can think of a bunch of things you never finished. What about when…" Matthew cuts in. Alfred groans.

"Nuh-uh, Mat. I don't need another three hour spiel about complete LIES," he says in between bites of popcorn. Matthew grins.

"Was it also a lie when Arthur had to come over and stop me because you were crying too much?" Ivan looks over interestedly, a sudden glint in his eyes as Alfred splutters, coughing on his food.

"America has cried before? I would like to see that someday."

"LIES I TELL YOU," Alfred yells, letting a waterfall of popcorn spray from his open mouth and paling when some of it hits Ivan square in the face. Matthew sighs when his brother runs away screaming from the angry Russian.

"He'll never learn," he says to Irina, who smiles sheepishly in answer. "Popcorn?" he asks, grabbing one of the many bags Alfred had left.

Meanwhile on the Wipeout course, Arthur and Francis are still bickering. Elizabeta shouts towards them.

"Arthur, it's your go! Francis's on the platform," Elizabeta sing-songs. "You guys are still being timed."

"Right," Arthur mutters, "as if I care about your bloody times anyhow."

He runs towards the obstacle, leaping with one powerful jump. This time, he doesn't fall directly in the water, bouncing on the first ball with one foot and jumping for the next one in one graceful step.

The crowd's '_oooooh_' quickly turns into bursts of laughter when Arthur miscalculates the force of his jump and bounces too hard, flying in the air two meters over the balls before smacking into the water with a painful-looking belly flop, splashing the trio hosting the event. They don't seem to mind, laughing too hard to care about being sprayed with water.

"Well, you know what they say," Eliza replies, looking over at Gilbert and Antonio who are both incapable of commenting, bent over in uproarious laughter, "couples who stay together, bounce together," provoking the crowd of nations into another round of laughter.

Arthur is climbing up the ladders where a still-panting Francis waits for him, tired from the obstacle course.

"I'm going to murder the lot of them," he grits out, face red from his impact with the water.

"Not if you die first, _chéri_," Francis replies mid-pant. "That fall looked painful."

"Yeah, well I'll make sure to stay in one piece until we finish this, then I'll murder them, _then_ I'll die," Arthur spits out, bent over as he also regains his breath.

"Ah, a _tête de mule_ as always, I see. OH NON."

"What," Arthur says, though he feels like he'll regret asking.

He does.

"_My nail!_ I broke my _nail_!" Francis wails, holding out his hand in the light with a horrified expression on his face. Arthur squints, but he doesn't notice anything different with the man's nails. Not that he spends time regularly checking up on Francis's nails.

"You'll live," is all he says, straightening up, but looking at Francis, it's as if the world has ended.

"Aaw, it looks like one of our contestants is in distress," a sickly-sweet voice coos out from below, into her microphone for all to hear. "You should comfort your lover, Kirkland." A chorus of squeals back up her words from the bleachers at her words.

"Eliza, I swear, I'm going to _stRANGLE YOU_," Arthur yells out as Francis sinks down to his knees behind him, tearful eyes still hooked on the apparent atrocity he finds with his nails.

"Don't be like that! I'm just trying to help you both sort out your unresolved sexual tension. At least we haven't locked you inside a closet for ten hours. Although, now that I think about it…" she muses, tapping her finger on chin as if in thought. Seychelles faints in the bleachers at that, much to the surprised yelps of neighbouring countries.

"DON'T YOU DARE," Arthur shouts.

"Arthur… just ignore her and _go_. Get it over with," Francis mutters next to him, voice wobbly and eyes still brimming with tears from his nail disaster. Arthur huffs angrily in reply and turns to face the last obstacle of the first course, the fender-bender.

It takes him approximately seven seconds to run halfway along the spinning log and dodge the few blocks littered across it, feet swiftly moving side to side and arms flailing comically as Arthur tries to stay balanced on the beam.

"H – holy _shit_," someone lets out from the bleachers, voicing what everyone else is currently thinking. "He's actually _doing _it." Im Yong and Lin Yi have stopped grappling for Kiku's camera and even Ivan has halted in his chase for Alfred, who's also stopped in his tracks to look at the spectacle before them.

Gilbert is the first one to recover.

"Well, well, well," he says in the mic, "looks like Mr. Kirkland's pirate prowess has come out to help him. Had practice walking down the plank back in the day, matey?" he teases.

"I wa-aa_aaas_ a _privatee_eeer, you u-utter pi_eee_ce of shit-te!" Arthur yells out while trying to stay upright along the course. Francis gapes at him from the starting point, but soon recovers as he forgets about his previous dramatic tantrum and gets up, cupping his hands to shout out encouragements.

"_Vas-y, rosbif!_"

"Shu_uu_uut up, y-yo_oo_u frog! I don't nee_eeeee_\- OH FUCK."

The beam rotates a tad faster to the right, and Arthur nearly slips, eyebrows slanted upwards and mouth forming a comical 'o' in panic as he swings his legs to stay on the obstacle. The crowd is watching silently, all standing up in anticipation, until Arthur finally leaps for the finishing block and successfully lands on it, rolling on his side and stopping once he hits the stairs, panting for air.

"Jesus _Christ_," he wheezes out.

The crowd is cheering. Matthias is whistling, and Feliciano is shaking his brother back and forth and jumping in his excitement.

"Woo!" Antonio claps. "That concludes _one_ of our contestant's race for the first course. _Pero!_ It's not over yet; the timer doesn't stop until the other finishes as well! Right, Eliza?"

Said woman nods in assent, checking her timer. "Yep! It's Francis's turn to face the fender-bender!"

Francis sighs and starts jogging. He begins walking on the beam carefully, unlike Arthur's previous get-it-over-with strategy, wary in case the pole starts to spin too quickly.

That's when he also slips, but unlike Arthur, he doesn't make a jump for the finishing platform.

Francis lets out a high-pitched yell in fright when his blunder causes a rapid shift in the obstacle, and he sinks down on his knees and grabs onto a block in fright.

The beam keeps on spinning.

Francis finds himself grabbing on the block for dear life as he's spun upside down, hair falling over his eyes and blood rushing to his face.

Arthur's laughing, slapping a hand on his knee, and he's only _one meter away_, Francis thinks infuriatingly. So close to finishing this hell.

"You look like a koala!" his friend lets out in between laughter, and Francis can only grab on tighter, another panicked screech when he feels his legs slipping from their hold. He doesn't see how any of this is funny.

"_À L'AAAAAIDE_," he moans out, but his voice his drowned out by the crowd of nations, loudly talking and laughing at the scene.

"Well, that's unusual," Elizabeta lets out as the three show hosts simply look at the poor Frenchman spin around slowly.

"I'd expect nothing less from Francis!" Gilbert answers. "But let's call it a day. Francis, bud! It's over! You're done!"

"HOW DO I GET DOWN."

"Let go!" Antonio supplies unhelpfully, smiling as sunnily as ever.

Francis, predictably, does not let go.

Arthur, who's stopped with his guffaws, leans forward.

"Listen, you oaf, no one's got a ladder to come get you, and besides, you got yourself in this mess in the first place."

"Excuse me?! I am only in this position in the first place because of _you_ and your idiotic drinking bets!" Francis answers indignantly, gripping at the block tighter. The beam has done a full circle and Francis is now facing upwards again, but he isn't moving forward, still petrified. Arthur huffs out in amusement at the sight.

"You really do look like a koala like this. Ah, well. I guess we can try this," and Arthur gets down onto his stomach, leans forward with an arm stretched out. Francis gapes at him. Arthur frowns.

"Well? Are you going to grab on or not? You're going to end up upside down again, you twat," he adds, nodding at the still spinning beam, and Francis lets go of his grip on the block to shakily reach out and grasp the proffered hand. Arthur grunts in effort as he pulls him forwards.

"A little. _Help_. Would be – appreciated, Francis," he grits through his teeth, and Francis complies, pushing with his legs so he's crawling forward, until he reaches the finishing block.

They both sigh in relief once it's over, but Francis still has a foot resting on the beam, which nudges it as it rotates, and the man sways, falling atop the surprised Englishman, who falls back down on his back with a disgruntled '_oof'._

There's a pause as they stay like that, one atop the other. And then a wolf-whistle from the crowd.

"_Get off me_," Francis hears darkly from beneath him, and he scrambles back up in haste, laughing nervously when he spots the glare Arthur is sending his way.

"You're fucking heavy. Too much cheese," the man mutters as he also gets up and they both make their way down to the three hosts, and Francis protests indignantly.

Eliza is waiting at the bottom, cheeks rosy and ominous glint in her eyes.

"What a perfect ending to the first obstacle course! So romantic," she swoons, placing a hand on her forehead for effect, and Arthur rolls his eyes because he's given up at this point. For now.

"Alright!" Gilbert runs over, stopping and making his way behind the two contestants to grab their hands and lifting them up in the air in victory. "Give it up for Arthur and Francis, who have successfully made it through the first hurdle of three!"

A chorus of cheers and clapping erupt from the bleachers.

"I fucking hate your guts, you absolute wanker," Arthur whispers darkly as the cheers continue, and Gilbert only grins wider.

"Smile for the camera, Artie."

A flash sets off before the trio, and Arthur blinks rapidly to get rid of the black spots before his eyes. Kiku is kneeling in front, having taken a picture. Arthur reddens in anger, and Francis wails.

"Kiku, _non!_ I am sure I look _terrible_, why would you take a picture of me in this state?"

Kiku only shrugs, and Elizabeta answers for him.

"For publicity, of course. Someone out there is willing to pay big money for pictures of you two, no matter how you look," she winks, and Arthur scowls. Antonio steps in, mic in hand.

"Okay, _amigos_! Now that you are done, let's see your results! Eliza?"

"Twelve minutes and fourty-three seconds! Pretty good, and looks like we've got a new record!"

"We're the only ones who've done this, of course this is the record," Arthur huffs out. Eliza ignores him, and claps her hands.

"So! You both get an hour's respite while we make sure the second course is set up correctly! You're free to go! _For now_," and Arthur and Francis both shiver at her tone, and hastily make their way to the crowd of nations, who are still whooping and cheering happily for them.

Alfred and Matthew are waiting for them, smiles wide and eyes twinkling in mirth. Arthur glares back, putting as much threat in his stare as he can, considering his sopping wet hair and muddy clothes. Smirk still in place, Alfred leans forward and raises his eyebrows slowly, then opens his mouth slowly as if to say something, but Arthur cuts him to the chase.

"NOT A WORD IF YOU WANT YOUR GLASSES TO STAY IN ONE PIECE, YOU YANK."

* * *

Translations:

Allez, allez - come on (lit. go, go)  
Leute - people  
Alors - so  
Mi amigo - my friend  
Mon cher/chéri - my dear  
Tête de mule - stubborn (lit. mule's head)  
Vas-y - come on/go for it  
Pero - but  
À l'aide - help


	7. Chapter 7

An hour has passed, and Arthur and Francis reluctantly trudge back to the WipeOut course, where Gilbert, Antonio and Elizabeta are eagerly waiting for them, smiles lecherous. The other nations frantically get back to their seats on the bleachers, impatient to see more hilarious stunts unfold.

After everyone's settled, chatter down to mere whispers and occasional giggles, Gilbert clears his throat in the mic to get the crowd's attention.

"Okay, everyone! We're back on track with the WipeOut course, part two!"

"And for this course, our two favourite couple will have to brave the King of the Mountain, followed by the Dizzy Dummy 2.0!" Antonio chimes in with a flourish of his hand, presenting the obstacle course to the audience, who _oooohs_ and _aaaahs_.

"Hold up!" Arthur says a few feet away, "First of all, why is called the Dizzy Dummy 2.0?! This is the first time anyone's gone on an obstacle like this! Second of all, and for the last time, WE'RE NOT FUCKING TOGETHER."

"I beg to differ," Gilbert snickers out, and Arthur reddens as he realises his poor choice of words, grumbling and fuming. Francis, who's long given up on trying to correct the others, pats his friend on the back with awkward _there, there_s, only to be roughly shoved off by the incensed Englishman.

"And it's called the Dizzy Dummy 2.0 for show business, Artiepants," Gilbert continues proudly. "You wouldn't know anything about it."

"Anyway!" Elizabeta cuts it with a dazzling smile, mic at the ready, "let's get on with the show, shall we? Who here wants to see our beloved Arthur and Francis fall on their butts and get kicked by moving objects here?"

She is answered by a chorus of cheers and whoops, much to her delight and to the two contestants' ire.

"ALL OF YOU ARE NO LONGER MY FRIENDS," Arthur yells out to the audience of nations. "FROM NOW ON, CONSIDER ANY OF OUR ALLIANCES NULL, YOU TWATS. WE WON'T BE SHIPPING ANY TEA TO THE LOT OF YOU ANYMORE."

"Tea sucks butts!" Alfred shouts back among the bleachers.

"So!" Antonio claps his hands excitedly, oblivious to the commotion going on around him. "To begin, Arthur and Francis will have to brave the King of the Mountain!"

Before them, there are multiple posts with a cushion atop them standing among a pool of water, each next to each other so that they form a large circle. In the circle is another pillar, slightly larger than the others and with a bigger cushion on top. Right beneath the cushion surrounding the pillar is a ring, on which two beams are attached and rotating. Underneath those are two more planks, also spinning around, but flat enough that someone could walk on it and reach the middle pad.

"Both of these fine gentlemen," and Elizabeta snorts at that, "will each be standing on one of the outer posts. They will have to walk on the rotating planks without getting hit by the spinning beams all the while, and reach the middle pillar. The first one to finish will get an advantage for the next course, so this time you'll have to work against each other if you want a chance at an easier challenge!"

Arthur smirks, and beside him, Francis chuckles.

"Fighting this nitwit is my specialty," Arthur declares haughtily. "Should be a piece of cake to beat you at this, considering you weren't even able to complete the last course."

Francis sticks his tongue out to his rival out of spite. "_Rira bien qui rira le dernier_, Mr. Kirkland," he shoots back as they make their way to the obstacle course, ready to stand on a starting pillar.

"But wait! We have a special surprise for these two, don't we, Gilbert?" Antonio asks, smiling. Gilbert answers him with a high-five.

"Hell yeah we do! We were able to get two other awesome volunteers to help with the King of the Mountain; give it up for Ludwig and Romano!"

The two said men come forward from the bleachers, decked in light t-shirts and gym shorts, and both grumbling.

"This better be worth the 50 kilos of tomatoes you promised me, you asswipe," Romano growls as he pokes Antonio repeatedly on the chest, who simply beams in answers and tries to go for a hug. Romano evades him with a duck and a punch in the gut.

"Of course," Antonio wheezes out, still smiling despite having the breath sucked out of him. Beside him, Ludwig looks on, unimpressed, before turning to his older brother.

"And you told me you'd _actually_ do the dishes for a straight month if I complied with your wishes," he mutters, frowning all the while. Gilbert lifts both his hands in a placating manner, easy grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, West, I promised, didn't I? When did I ever back out on any of my promises? Don't answer that," he tacks on quickly when he spots the deadpan stare Ludwig is giving him. Beside them, Elizabeta jumps in.

"Besides, I think you'll both _particularly_ like what we've got in store for you…" she drags Romano in and starts whispering, and slowly, Ludwig and Romano's frowns turn to eager sneers.

"Okay! Places, everyone!" Gilbert chimes in, and Ludwig and Romano comply, the two also walking to the obstacle course to stand on one of the pillars.

Arthur looks on, delighted, when he spots the two newcomers on the obstacle course.

"Do we have more opponents? Two idiots who get to share our pain and suffering?"

"Not exactly," Elizabeta says sweetly into the mic, making sure the audience of nations on the bleachers can also hear her. "You see, these two volunteered to be a part of the obstacles you will have to face."

"What." Arthur states flatly.

"That's right!" Antonio continues, "Ludwig and Romano here will be throwing _these_ at you while you both try to reach the middle pillar," he says, brandishing a grey foam ball. "They look harmless, but they're actually pretty heavy. If they hit you, you'll definitely fall."

"_Pourquoi moi_…" Francis moans out on his post, exaggerated despair clearly written on his face. A few pillars down, Ludwig is casually juggling one of the balls in the air, catching it expertly every time it falls back towards him. To his right, Romano is grinning widely, evil glint in his eyes.

"Oh, am I gonna have fun with this."

Francis gulps in answer.

* * *

Translations:

Rira bien qui rira le dernier - lit. he who laughs last laughs best; it's an expression similar to 'having the last laugh' or 'revenge is a dish best served cold'

Pourquoi moi - why me


End file.
